


The Witch's Gift

by EldritchSandwich



Category: Original Work
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Blow Jobs, Bukkake, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Filthy, Gang Rape, High Fantasy, Large Breasts, Large Cock, Multi, Nasty Sandwich, Tentacle Sex, Transformation, Trolls, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 21:34:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5717893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EldritchSandwich/pseuds/EldritchSandwich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arina Helicon is one of the most feared adventurers in the land. But no matter how dangerous you are, it's never a good idea to piss off a witch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Witch's Gift

Her name was Arina Helicon, and every man in the company wanted her.

When the day's fighting was done, when they were gathered in the tavern or by the fire for the night, they talked about her, confident she would never hear since she refused to have anything to do with them when they weren't fighting. The independent adventurers who signed on to fight with their band of mercenaries often tended to act aloof, but Arina was a different breed altogether. They told each other that she was like a marble statue: perfectly sculpted, and ice fucking cold.

She was certainly statuesque in physique, tall and athletic but with a body that undeniably belonged to a woman. Her face was chiseled and beautiful, and would have been a thousand times more so if she ever smiled. Her eyes were a cold, expansive gray, waves of silky blond hair kept tightly braided at all times and a point of contention in the men's fantasies: some wanted to see that braid undone and watch that hair spill beneath her naked and inviting form, while others wanted to use it as a handhold while they fucked her until she howled.

Even the dimmest and randiest of them acknowledged that would never happen, however. Arina Helicon was a frigid, humorless, stone-cold bitch if ever there was one, one who showed such disdain for men that the soldiers would long ago have decided she was a dyke and moved on if not for the equal disdain she seemed to show for women. She simply thought herself better than everyone, and she left men too off-balance and women too intimidated to ever prove her otherwise. Even without her armor she would have been untouchable, and even without her spear she would have gored anyone who got too close.

So why is Arina Helicon lying naked on the grass, gasping and moaning, cunt clenching and spraying and massive tits heaving as the men of the company circle around her, laughing and jeering, coating her lush, overflowing body in rope after rope of their slick, filthy spunk?

Well, that's quite a story.

* * *

The company didn't usually like fighting magic users. They were just soldiers, after all, and far more accustomed to going up against goblins or ogres or the odd wyvern than someone who could twist minds or spit lightning or whatever. But a town called Ershemeer was being threatened by a witch, and the purse they offered to anyone who could rid them of her was too tempting to pass up. So the men marched into the woods outside Ershemeer, and Arina Helicon marched with them.

She wasn't in command, not technically. In fact, as a wandering sellsword who'd only joined up on contract, she had no authority at all. But that didn't change the fact that when Arina Helicon gave an order, every man around her rushed to obey it.

"Split up," the blonde barked, "two columns. Eyes open for these goblins of hers." The men moved to obey, even the officers, as she muttered to herself "Let's see how many spells this slut can cast with my spear down her throat..."

It is worth pausing here for a slight digression into the nature of witches.

While the wizards and sorcerers of the world are fond of grand, flashy gestures and pyrotechnics and enchanters tend to be bookish, studious souls more interested in the theory of magic than its practice, witches are, at heart, playful. Their magic is, after all, learned from spirits, beings that are widely known for their mischievous nature, and whether benevolent or bloodthirsty the overwhelming majority of witches have had this sense of mischief rub off on them. This fondness for tricks and illusions over raw displays of magical force was what allowed the witch to hear Arina's unflattering comment so clearly, seeing as she was currently the soldier marching in formation behind her.

The witch—whose name, incidentally, was Marsa—was, like the majority of witches, not particularly evil and, again like the majority of witches, mostly desired to be left alone. So when a band of goblins had attempted to set up camp in her swampy domain, she had unthinkingly used her control of hallucinations and plants to divert them out of the woods, realizing too late what the sudden appearance of a goblin raiding party coming from the direction of her residence would mean to the people of Ershemeer. So she had come out of her burrow to investigate the backlash, and to her consternation found a column of troops crashing through her woods.

Marsa was actually content to let them wander lost for a while, getting muddy and irritated until they angrily concluded that there was no witch and that their time was being wasted by a bunch of superstitious hicks. Until, that is, the blond bitch swaggering around in front of her called her a slut.

The first scream came from the back of the column. Every other soldier spun around just in time to watch their friend being yanked up into the air by the branches of one of the trees lining the trail, and before they could even draw their weapons the rest of the trees were on them as well. A few men were quick enough to slash at branches, but there were far more trees than men and soon the entire company was entangled. Except, that is, for Arina Helicon and the man walking directly behind her.

Arina scowled down at her last remaining soldier. "Come on!" She marched purposefully toward the nearest tree, spear in her outstretched arm, the soldier following meekly behind her. The blonde was wearing a chainmail skirt, and as preoccupied as she was it was child's play for the soldier to kneel down, worming his arm up underneath it and sinking two glowing green fingers straight into Arina's snatch.

The blonde spun around with a shriek of fury, the butt of her spear raised and her eyes wild. "Are you fucking—"

The witch smirked.

She was not at all like the other woman, short and brown and barefoot, dressed only in twisted black rags braided into some semblance of a dress. Her hair was dark and wild, there were streaks of ochre smudged across her face, and her eyes were green. Too green.

"A slut? So I'm a slut?" Marsa asked. Her voice was low and scratchy, but all too clear. "You'd know all about being a slut, wouldn't you Arina?"

The blonde's eyes went wide, and Marsa sneered.

"I can see inside your head. I know all those filthy fucking fantasies that keep you awake at night." Arina fought to bring the spear down, but all she could do was fidget; her armor felt wrong, too tight. Had the witch put a spell on it? "Well now we'll see which one of us is the real slut."

Arina jumped as the straps that held her breastplate on suddenly snapped. She looked down and gasped; her breasts, once firm handfuls, were growing! They were the size of melons now, huge and heavy on her chest, her nipples growing longer and thicker and harder before her eyes.

She heard another clanking sound and only then realized that her skirt had ridden up almost to her waist, pushed up by her suddenly fat, swollen backside. The motion also revealed the space between her legs, and she whimpered; her sex, once a simple white slit, was now plump and engorged, glowing pink and gushing wetness. She was so fucking horny!

The witch easily swept the spear from her hands as she dropped to her knees, uncaring of the dozens of soldiers gaping from the trees as she sank two fingers all the way into her blazing, dripping cunt, wet smacking and sloshing sounds filling the forest as she fingerfucked herself raw. Her other hand grabbed one of her now-immense breasts, and she gasped; it was so sensitive that just touching it made her hips buck, and when she pinched her nipple a flood of cunt cream cascaded down her thighs to soak into the grassy trail.

"Oh fuck! Oh fuck, oh Goddess fuck agh!"

"What do you need?" the witch whispered in her ear. "Say it."

"I need to be fucked!" Arina's cheeks were blazing red even as the words tumbled from her lips, but the witch just laughed.

"Scream it!"

Arina didn't hesitate. "I need to be fucked! Fuck me, fuck me, I need to be fucked!"

All at once, the branches holding the mercenaries began to loosen. The first men to hit the ground looked between Arina and the witch, unsure whether they were supposed to unsheathe their swords, or draw their weapons instead. Marsa just raised her hands.

"You see? Witches aren't so bad, are we boys? I'm giving you what you want. Now you give her what she wants."

As the witch was swallowed up by the shadows of the forest, one by one the men turned to Arina and started to grin.

The first man brave enough to part the plates and padding of his armor to reveal his growing erection was caught completely off guard when Arina surged forward, wrapping her hands around it even as she rolled back onto her newly fat and quivering ass, revealing her open, dripping cunt and pulling him down into it without so much as a word. The words only started when he was inside and pumping away, and mostly consisted of "Oh Goddess yes fuck me fuck me harder fuck me fuck me fuck me."

Another man was quick to shut her up, revealing his own cock and laughing with delight as she eagerly sucked it down her hot, wet throat. Other men were approaching now, some already stroking their cocks, and before long one was pushing against her hip, raising her to her side and forcing the man fucking her twat to lift her leg over his shoulder, which only served to reveal the puckered pink hole the third man was interested in. Arina's gushing cunt-drippings had already thoroughly lubricated her entire ass crack, so he wasted no time in shoving his cock in deep. Arina squealed around the thick shaft shoved down her throat, then only started to suck harder and moan more as the men in her cunt and asshole took up opposite rhythms, hammering her holes until her twat honey was spraying out onto them.

A fourth man knelt down in front of her and grabbed her tits, now more than big enough that he could mash them together and shove his cock down between them even when she was lying on her side. His hands squeezed and mauled the massive melons as his cock competed with the others to see who could fuck her hardest.

There were thirty four men in the company, and every single one got a turn. With four tantalizing places to fuck her, as soon as one man shot his load deep inside one of her holes or between her giant tits, five more were scrambling to take his place. By the time the sun set, some of the men had come back for seconds.

When the men were too sore and deflated to do any more, they let their blonde cumtrough fall to the ground, gasping and gurgling as spunk leaked from her gaping ass and cunthole and bubbled from her swollen mouth. Her face, chest, and thighs were slopped with her compatriots' jism, and the few who could still get hard were furiously pumping their own shafts at the sight, their last orgasms of the day covering the last unsullied inches of her body in ropes of hot, sticky cum. They laughed when just being spunked on was enough to make their cock-hungry former ice queen come.

Eventually, someone asked about the witch. "Fuck the witch. Let's get out of here."

Someone else asked about Arina. "Fuck her too. We've had our fun."

"Come on, we gotta take her with us!"

"Yeah? What if the spell wears off? She'll kill us all!"

"Yeah, I say leave her. Stupid cunt deserves to get left alone in the woods."

"Yeah, maybe she'll get real lucky and some bandits'll find her, make her their little fuck slave!"

The men laughed as they marched off, back toward Ershemeer, to tell the people their witch problem was taken care of. After all, this witch obviously wasn't so bad. Besides, once they had the money they'd leave, and who cared whether the witch came back after that?

Arina, who was too busy fantasizing about the bandits, didn't even notice.

* * *

When Arina wakes up, there's a blissful moment when she doesn't remember anything. Then she starts to wonder why her chest is so heavy and why she's so cold, and it all comes back.

She stumbles to her feet, the unfamiliar weight of her overflowing ass and tits tripping her up, men's half-dried cum sloughing off her skin as she does. She's naked and alone in the wilderness, with a vengeful witch and gods know what else lurking in the trees, and she's covered by the spunk of the men who gangraped her last night—no, not raped, because she fucking begged them for it.

The worst part of it all is that even in the face of those memories, and the shame and fear of being naked and filthy and violated and alone, she's still so fucking horny.

She trudges blindly through the forest, heading away from the trail and Ershemeer, and as she does one hand is squeezing one of her insanely huge, insanely sensitive tits, the other sinking three fingers into her constantly-gushing snatch. She leaves a trail of cum behind her as she stumbles through the trees, moans out loud every time a branch or fern brushes her blazing skin. More than once she has to stop, both hands pumping her cunt until she can have the mind-shattering orgasm she needs to let her concentrate for a few precious moments.

On one of those breaks, as the ringing fades from her ears, she hears the trickle of water.

She crashes through the trees, squealing and coming as low-hanging branches caress her nipples, and starts to cry when she sees the clear, cold stream winding through the woods in front of her. She drops into the knee-deep water and immediately begins scrubbing the dried spunk from her body, and between the cold and the rubbing she's only getting randier. Soon she's touching herself again, screaming out an orgasm as all four fingers curl up inside her and she mauls her own tits like a wild animal, grabbing as much of her own breast as she can with one hand and sucking the huge, fat nipple into her mouth.

When she hears the splash, she freezes. When she looks up, she screams.

The troll must have been drinking upstream, only noticing her when the motion and noise of her orgasms became too much to ignore. Now, however, the hulking creature's beady little eyes shift toward her and its hunched back turns, moss and chunks of embedded bark shifting as it faces her. When it does, she looks down between its hanging arms and her eyes go wide. Swinging between its legs is the biggest cock she's ever seen...rock hard, and pointing right at her.

She tries to back up as the troll advances, but all she manages to do is trip over a rock in the streambed, dropping her onto her ass and spreading her thighs, and that's all the invitation the troll needs. She sucks in a gasp as its filthy, mossy paws close around her waist, lifting her into the air and pulling her down against its cock, as big as her thigh and covered in rocky bumps. She's so gushing wet the tip penetrates her easily, and a low rumble escapes the troll's throat as it jams the first four inches of its monster-meat inside her. She screams in pain and panic and pleasure, and the pleasure only gets worse when it pulls out and slams back in twice as deep. Tears are streaming down Arina's face as the troll pulls back again because she's sure there's no way it can go any deeper, but then it shoves her down and she realizes she's wrong because it's even deeper now. She's more full than she's ever been, not that she's been filled all that often, and even then she knows the troll's not done. It pulls out one more time, and this time when it slams into her it's to the hilt.

The troll doesn't have balls, of course, just the spiny little hook it uses to anchor itself to females for their wrestling, violent mating displays. Arina isn't resisting, though, just moaning as the hook scrapes past her sensitive asshole. Her cunt feels like it's on fire, so stuffed she could swear she can see the troll's enormous cock pushing out against her stomach, but she's still gushing wet and every inch of her body is still singing out to be fucked.

When the troll starts pounding her, she starts to scream. They're not screams of fear, even though she knows they should be, they're screams of "Oh yes yes gods yes fuck me pound me fucking harder fill me up pound my fucking cunt oh fuck fuck fuck!" and even if it doesn't understand the words the troll seems more than happy to comply. Its massive cock pulls in and out as it practically drops her down on top of it, giant tits jiggling obscenely and ass cheeks bouncing like mad as the troll keeps fucking her, filling every boiling inch of her cuntsleeve then leaving it gapingly empty and aching to be refilled. She lets out a squeal as a flood of cunt honey sprays out around the tight seal, the troll letting out a snort of surprise before just bearing down harder. One of its paws moves down to grab her ass, and the new sensation makes her hips buck, the titanic troll cock thumping inside her harder and faster. She can tell from the growling noise it's making and the way it keeps fucking her more and more frantically that the troll is about to come, but like most humans she doesn't know what that means.

She learns when the troll's paws are ripped from her body, the massive torrent of high-velocity troll spunk sending her shooting off its cock to land ass-down on the streambed almost five feet away. She doesn't even have time to try to stand before the monster's massive jizz-hose turns on her again, shoving her to her back with its force as she's coated from head to toe in reeking gray troll spunk. The warm, gooey flood covering her makes her hand return unbidden to her cunt, wrenching another orgasm from her before the troll's is finished.

When the avalanche of cum ends, Arina looks up to find the troll loping disinterestedly into the woods, apparently having forgotten she's there. The blonde looks down at her body and give a heady sigh; well, she'll just have to clean herself up again, won't she?

* * *

After a few more hours of walking and fucking herself, Arina can tell she's getting into a different part of the woods; the ground is getting wetter, the undergrowth is getting thicker, less like a forest and more like a marsh. There's less and less light coming through the canopy, but whether that's because it's getting thicker or just because it's getting later she doesn't know for sure. She knows she should probably turn back, but by now she's completely lost.

She's close to giving up, just sitting down in the damp soil and fingerfucking herself until she dies of exhaustion, when she sees it: a light. Not just any light, but the unmistakable swaying yellow glow of a lantern.

She crashes through the undergrowth, heedless of the way it increasingly sucks at her feet, shouting "Wait! Stop, please, I need help!" into the echoing trees, not caring that whoever it is will probably treat her like everyone and everything else treats her now since that's exactly what part of her wants.

When she makes her way into a muddy clearing, however, she finds that 'whoever it is' isn't anyone. The lantern, blown glass and chipped with age, is swinging from a post in front of a most unusual house.

It used to be a house, at least, that much is obvious, but now it's sunken down into the swamp, plants and vines growing all over its surface, angling it down to the ground and making it look more like the entrance to a mineshaft than a cabin. There's no way a house that looks like that can possibly be inhabitable, Arina thinks, but she knows she's wrong because there's more light coming from inside. She steps carefully onto the broken slats of the landing, one arm cradling her swollen chest defensively, and knocks. "Hello?"

There's no response. But just as she's about to knock again, the door swings open.

The creature standing on the other side must be a woman, but she's so ancient and wrinkled and bent and swaddled in filthy, matted robes it's hard to tell. Bright eyes twinkle from the sagging folds of her skin, flitting up and down Arina's exposed body with concern, not offense.

"Oh, dear! You poor girl, what in land's name happened to you?" Her voice is high and scratchy, poised to cackle, and she looks and sounds so much more like a witch than the witch did it's a bit unnerving. Arina swallows.

"I...I need help. I...I'm lost, I...I think I've been cursed..." The once-stoic blonde, haughty and untouchable only a day ago, is openly weeping now, cheeks beet red as the woman coos gently and ushers her inside.

"You poor child, you sweet little thing, come in! Come in, sit by the fire while I draw you a bath, dear! Whatever happened to you?"

Arina sits down, glancing at the house as she does. It turns out the reason it was angled down is that half of it's underground, a mostly flat living area with a roaring fireplace and stairs down into a darker, more natural level cut from the clay and the rock of the marsh. The space is tight and cluttered, dead fowl and bundles of herbs hanging from the rafters and clothes and pots and pans and baskets of food stuffed in every available corner. The old woman buzzes around the mess efficiently, emptying the contents of a big copper tub and dragging it closer to the fire, then heading down to the basement where she fills a bucket of water from a spigot—probably tapping a spring behind the wall, Arina reasons—and carries it back up to warm over the fire.

By the time the tub is full, Arina's told the old woman her story.

"Oh, you poor thing! Cursed! Violated! How could you have the strength to survive? Come, dear, into the bath. That's a good girl. It's all right now, you're safe with old Marsa."

Arina sinks into the tub of steaming water gratefully, all too aware of how the heat makes her now-constantly-aroused body react even as it begins to wash the mud from her feet and the sweat from the rest of her. She has to bite down on her tongue to keep from moaning as the old woman touches a cloth to her back, cleaning her with careful, efficient strokes that make her come twice into the water before the woman ever reaches her feet, then twice more before she leaves them. It's not until the woman reaches her chest that Arina loses control, a pathetic whimper escaping her throat. That catches the old woman's attention, and those sharp eyes slip down to her fat, straining, fully-erect nipples.

"Oh my, dear. This curse of yours is really hitting you hard, isn't it? You're really turning into a complete slut, aren't you?"

That word makes Arina whimper again, but the woman's already moved on to her arm. "So you have to find his witch, that's clear. But once you do, what will you do with her, I wonder?"

_Kill her_ , Arina wants to say, but she can't. Her cheeks flare as red as her swollen cunt, because after less than two days of this the fight's already gone out of her. "I...I'll beg her to take it back," she hiccups, and the old woman's hand withdraws.

"Beg me?" Arina's head snaps around just fast enough to see the last of the old woman's age slough away, revealing the smirking, green-eyed face beneath. "I like the sound of that."

"You! I...I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, please, I'll do anything, I'll do anything you want me to! I was a worthless...a worthless cunt, I know that now, and I'm sorry, I've learned my lesson, I swear, I'll never be cruel or unwelcoming to anyone again, I swear to all the gods, just help me."

The witch simply stands there, tapping her finger on her chin and smiling. "Get out of my bathtub."

Arina complies without a moment's thought, giant tits jiggling and glistening and drawing Marsa's eyes very naturally down her fine work. She learned this particular curse from a friend, and she never really thought she'd have a chance to use it.

"Very well, warrior. I will give you a choice. I can either lift the curse...or lick you."

Arina's eyes go wide. Every mote of her mind is screaming that she knows the choice she has to make, that she can't live like this. But every inch of her body is screaming the exact opposite.

"Lick me." Arina hears the words before she realizes she said them, but by then it's too late. "Lick me, please, please please eat me I'm so wet I need it I need your tongue please gods please..."

Marsa smiles and inclines her head down toward the earthen lower level of the house. "My bed is down there."

Arina clambers down the narrow stairs and practically throws herself onto the pile of pillows and animal skins against the far wall, grinding her hand between her eagerly-spread legs in frustration as Marsa takes her time coming down to join her. She strips off her strange dress as she walks, revealing a slender brown body, breasts small but perfectly perky, nipples as long and thick as Arina's now are, and the neat brown mountain of her sex completely hairless. Arina's own still has a thick mat of blond curls, damp with arousal, that holds the witch's focus as she kneels down.

"Oh dear. I won't be having that caught between my teeth." Arina whines in shame at her unkempt sex, but only until the witch produces a small bottle from the palm of her hand. Arina just watches as the thick red oil drizzles onto her sex, then moans and wriggles as it begins to run between the hairs. When she looks down again the oil is gone, and so is all the hair; now there's nothing to disguise her fat, shining pink lips and the torrent of moisture constantly seeping from between them.

Marsa bends down far enough for Arina to feel her breath on her newly-cleaned twat, and that's all she needs to orgasm. Marsa looks up at her with a mischievous smile. "Oh dear. Did I forget to mention that the oil makes the skin very sensitive? I do hope it isn't compounded by the effects of the curse..."

Before Arina can say anything, her head hits the ground hard and her throat erupts in screams as she has three orgasms into the witch's writhing, sucking mouth.

Arina's never been with a woman, never had a woman's lips sucking her clit and a woman's tongue buried in her snatch, and it's a thousand times better than the shameful fantasies she used to touch herself to as a girl ever prepared her for. Marsa's fingers pull her fat, wet lips apart to wend her long, agile tongue ever deeper, and Arina can only keep coming and coming into her ravenous and talented mouth until she loses count, then loses her ability to count, then loses her ability to think, to do anything other than scream and come and paw madly at her breasts as a counterpart to the witch's friction and suction and penetration over every inch of her erupting cunt. She's so overcome, her senses so overloaded with pleasure, that she doesn't even notice when something else starts squeezing her breasts. When another vine pushes into her tight asshole, however, that she notices.

Marsa didn't invoke the vines consciously; they've just been her only consistent sexual partners for so long that her arousal alone is now enough to animate them. Now that they're here, however, she's certainly not going to put them to waste. Three of the strong tendrils wrap around her, lifting her up and rotating her around the fulcrum of Arina's cunt until her own snatch is above the blonde's panting mouth, the witch's smooth brown sex wet and open and engorged. Arina claims the juicy prize with her lips and immediately moans into it, the taste that's sweeter and spicier than anything she's ever tasted flooding her mouth. She eats ravenously, as ravenously as Marsa does, even as more tentacles slide around and between them, squeezing tits and pinching nipples and fucking pussies and assholes as rivers of sweet cunt honey stream into the two lovers' mouths.

The only end can come when both Arina and Marsa finally collapse, the anima of the vines as their mistress drifts off just enough to tug the two into each other's arms.

* * *

They wake up still wrapped in each other's arms, faces and chests and thighs still coated in their own and each other's cunt nectar, bodies sore from head to toe. And as they wake, Arina is already coming from humping Marsa's thigh.

The witch just laughs, brushes the sweat-soaked hair from Arina's eyes, and gives her their first kiss.

"Now, my mighty warrior. Do you want me to lift the curse?"

"No," Arina answers without even having to think. "I want to stay like this forever. I don't ever want to go back. I want to be your...your slut." She stares longingly, faithfully, into those impossible green eyes. "I want to be your slut, Marsa."

Marsa smiles. "Good." The smile turns into a wince. "Because I don't actually know how to undo it."

The blonde blinks. Then Arina Helicon, the Warrior-Whore, Champion of Sluts, the unattainable, frigid, misanthropic prude who's spent the last three days coated head to toe in the cum of every single living thing she's met, throws back her head and laughs.


End file.
